


A Push In The Right Direction

by dorkpatroller



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 21:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: All Eustace wanted was a little time to himself, not for an aphrodisiac potion to blow up in his face.





	A Push In The Right Direction

**Author's Note:**

> i've never played this game in my life please have mercy

Although recent years have helped to warm a once-frozen heart, sometimes, some days, Eustace still prefers the refuge of his own room. He would do anything for his little group of mismatched misfits, but now and then he hits a limit. Socializing can, it seems, be far more exhausting than battle. 

It isn’t as if he needs to justify it. Everyone, not just himself, needs a day to themselves now and then. Very rarely is Eustace faced with a day when he has nothing to do. He intends to make the most of it. He grants himself little pleasures he often omits, but holds dear: A soft, knit sweater with an open back that fits just slightly too large for him, a steaming cup of rosehip tea with a slice of lemon steeping in the bottom, and a book he would deny he owns if anyone were ever to find it. 

Sharing this room means that he wouldn’t normally let himself indulge like this, but Vaseraga is nowhere to be found. He left on some errand. It’s perfect. This book is one he’s read before. It recants the tale of two lovers too afraid to admit their own feelings. Eustace couldn’t possibly read it when Vaseraga is nearby. It feels like it hits too close to home. In fact, even just reading it alone feels risky. 

Although he’s read the book several times before, he’s never related to it so wholeheartedly. Curled up best he can in an armchair tucked near a window with the curtains drawn closed, he reads each word anew. They want each other so badly, but feel as if they can’t. It’s like a page from his life, except for him, it's not so easy as speaking up. 

Eustace struggles with opening up. He’s grown very accustomed to the chill of loneliness and the walls he built to keep himself safe. Those walls keep the people he cares about safe, too. The idea of breaking through them is scary, but even so that wouldn’t stop Eustace. Fear isn’t the issue, but inability is.

He’s lived his life for so long being quiet with his thoughts and emotions. He’s not trying to keep them a secret, he just isn’t speaking up loud enough, it seems. He isn’t direct enough, and finding the power to change that isn’t as easy as it seems. Learning to wear his heart on his sleeve isn’t coming easily when his friends still act surprised when he smiles. 

He reaches for the mug of tea and he realizes, with a hint of a frown, it’s empty. All that’s left is the wilted lemon in the bottom. He sighs so softly he barely hears himself… and then he folds the corner of the page he’s reading and sets the book aside. He’ll just have to go get a fresh cup of tea, so he heads to the kitchen to heat another kettle. 

The kitchen isn’t dramatically far from his room, but leaving it on his “day off” makes him worry that his peaceful bubble will burst and he’ll be faced with an unwanted task. He descends a few stairs to reach the lower level of the common area. He picks up the well-worn kettle and begins to pour in water, but he doesn’t get far before an excitable, loud brunette bounds into his line of vision. (Annoying, but loveable.) 

Beatrix has no shortage of enthusiasm. She’s got a glass bottle in her hands. It’s corked and shaped like a heart, and it has a pink satin bow tied around its neck. The liquid inside is nearly completely gaseous, a bubbling mixture of blue and purple, but the true color is hard to discern. She’s clearly shaken it up a little on her way here, because potions aren’t meant to turn to gas like that. 

“Beatrix,” he says in greeting. It’s not thrilling to be dressed so casually in front of her, but she’s a  _ friend.  _ He’s not too concerned about her seeing his comfy sweater. “A potion..?” 

“Oh! Yeah! Well we all pitched in and bought it for you, and--” Beatrix drops the bottle before she finishes her own sentence. Eustace watches it fall in slow motion. His mind’s eye can already see it shattering into a million shards… and he didn’t bother with shoes, so he’s bound to cut his foot. His reaction, nor hers, is fast enough. The vile crashes into the floor, but…

It doesn’t break.

“Oh, whew, thank goodness!” Beatrix whooshes out a sigh of relief. Eustace crouches down to inspect the bottle for damage. It’s as he turns it over in his hand that the gas finally forms enough pressure to force the cork from the bottle. It goes flying and knocks down a frame from the wall. Eustace gasps, but as he sucks in that breath his lungs fill with that bluish, purple gas. He chokes. 

It burns the back of his throat and his lungs while he struggles to catch his breath. Beatrix stands stunned for only a handful of seconds before she yanks on Eustace’s arm to help pull him from the smoke. “Oh, no!” She gasps. 

Eustace pulls her back to the other side of the kitchen, away from any lingering gas… although the smoke has almost completely dispersed. He’s still choking, with tears pricking his eyes from the cloud the potion created. “What was that potion?” He asks. He doesn’t imagine this will kill him if it was meant to be a gift, but… well his heart is pounding harder than he suspects it should be, and he’s feeling a bit flushed. 

“It was for you and Vaseraga.” Beatrix says. Eustace hesitates in any train of thought he was on. 

“For us..?” 

“Well the rest of the crew and I were talking about how, you know, you guys both like eachother  _ so _ much.” 

“...”

“You can stop looking so unamused. We all know it. We thought you just needed a gentle, tiny, itty-bitty push. Then we met this merchant selling love potions!” Beatrix positions her hands on her hips and flashes him a bright smile. 

He doesn’t return the gesture. “Love potions,” Eustace repeats to himself. His skin tingles and a sudden chill rushes down his spine. That shiver is a reminder of just how warm he’s feeling around his ears and face. His lips part and his eyes widen ever so slightly. 

“Right! But the shop owner said a little goes a long way… and now there isn’t any left for Vaseraga.” 

Good gods. The last thing that Eustace needs right now is for them to give  _ any _ of that potion to Vaseraga. This is obviously an aphrodisiac. Eustace might be willing to believe that Beatrix honestly didn’t know what it was, but  _ everyone?  _ It seems unlikely. “I see. I think I need to lie down.” Eustace takes a few steps back away from her. His lungs are still tight and burning from the potion. Inhaling it isn’t likely the preferred method of ingesting it. 

“Wh--are you feeling sick? I’m so sorry! I’m sure it won’t last long,” Beatrix says. “Do you want me to walk you back to your room?” 

“No. Thank you for the gift. It was… thoughtful.” Terrible! They poisoned him! On his day off! He doesn’t even finish making his tea, instead he makes haste back to his bedroom. Once he’s safely inside he turns the lock on the door so he won’t be disturbed. Or, well, not until Vaseraga gets back, that is. It would be easier not to think of that, right now.

For now he needs a plan. Acting rash won’t get him anywhere. As it stands, he’s not feeling terrible. He’s warm--too warm for this sweater--but he’s not out of his mind or something. He’s never used one of those potions before, but he’s heard of the effect they can have. When dosed appropriately just a little nudge to help get someone in the  _ mood.  _ Overdosing can lead to something a bit more uncomfortable, but no one ever died from being aroused. Or, well, maybe that isn’t true, but Eustace is sure he’ll make it through the few hours it takes for this to wear off. 

He needs to remain calm and collected and figure out what he wants to do. As far as Vaseraga is concerned, nothing. He has feelings for him, but he’s not sure he’s ready to open up this far, yet. He’s been struggling just to say more than ‘be careful’ when he wants to say he loves him. They’re not an item. When he returns, Eustace will calmly explain the situation and ask him to go spend the night in another room. That being the case, he should pack him an overnight bag to take with him.

It’s not like Eustace to go through Vaseraga’s belongings. They’re not any of his business, and he expects the same courtesy in return. He tells himself this is a necessary breach of that trust, however. It’s only his clothes, anyway. So he pulls a set of clothes to sleep and dress in, and he folds them up and packs them into a small backpack. Then a few other little things he may need… and in the five minutes that takes him, Eustace’s knees feel weak. 

He drops the backpack back down onto Vaseraga’s bed and reaches up to lay the backs of his fingers against his forehead. He feels feverish, but there’s no fever at all. His breathing, he’s noticed, is ragged. It comes out in shallow pants every now and again like he’s an overheated dog. It’s frustrating. So he steps back to his own side of the room and peels the sweater up over his head. He doesn’t need it. It’s too hot. As he does it cool air ghosts along the sort of sweaty skin of his chest, and he  _ moans _ with relief. Moans! It’s absurd. 

Gods, and he hasn’t addressed it yet but he’s  _ very  _ hard. It’s been in the back of his mind this entire time, but he’s trying to stick to a plan. Pack a bag for Vaseraga--that’s done. Now he needs to find a way to keep himself comfortable through what he anticipates will be a rather annoying evening. He takes in a shaky breath and looks back at the door. If he had been more rational, he would have brought that tea kettle. The rosehip tea is soothing, and he could have easily waited for it to cool down to drink it. It doesn’t matter. He tosses his sweater on the floor near his bed to be retrieved later and then he begins clearing off the side-table next to his bed. He isn’t messy by nature, but there are a few things scattered about it. He pulls open the drawer and swipes them all into it, only hesitating once. 

There, tucked in the back of the drawer, is a bottle with a pearly label on it. He could admit he doesn’t use it enough if he wanted to. He reaches for it and turns it over in his hand. Inside it’s still half full of glossy, unscented lubricant. He could use this. His whole body flushes and he shoves it back into the drawer and closes it. That is  _ not _ what he meant by making himself comfortable. 

No, instead he brings the book he’d set aside over to the table. He also brings over a pitcher of water. It’s not cool anymore, only room temperature, but he’s glad he has it nonetheless. He sets down an empty glass beside it, but after a moment’s hesitation he pours some into the glass and takes a sip. He doesn’t even realize how agonizingly thirsty he was until that moment, when he puts back the entire glass without a second thought. 

He is having second thoughts about the lubricant, but he doesn’t want to. The door opens behind him--he didn’t even notice the click of the lock turning over--and he sets down the glass with a startle. When he turns to look over his shoulder he’s not surprised to see Vaseraga. Anyone else may have startled him, but he does have a key to this room. 

He’s surprised by the way his body reacts to him. His cheeks turn dark and his eyes roam over him--was he out on a mission? He’s not wearing armor. Just clothes and the bandages he uses to cover his face. Eustace’s mouth feels dry all over again, his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. 

“Are you alright?” Vaseraga asks. Eustace can see his eyes roam from one end of the room to the other, and then settle back on him, standing shirtless and chugging water. Eustace blows a stream of air back out of his mouth.

“Fine,” He says, and then he looks at the sweater on the floor. He could put it back on to spare some decency, but it’s not going to happen.

“Beatrix told me what happened. She asked me to check on you,” he says. He walks closer to Eustace and the distance between them is natural, normal, but it feels like an endless gap. Eustace wants to reach out and bring him closer. He’s feeling warm, but he thinks that if he were to lay his head against that chest he would be content. Eugh. His own thoughts are betraying him! He just needs to keep a level head. 

“Then I’m sure you know what the potion was.” 

“I do,” Vaseraga’s voice has a hint of amusement in it, and even in his frenzied state of mind Eustace’s eye twitches in annoyance at being mocked. “What will you do?”

“Send you away,” Eustace answers plainly. He gestures to the bag on his bed. “For you to take with you. Go sleep with someone else tonight.” 

“I see,” Vaseraga says. He walks to the bag and opens it. He examines the contents momentarily. He doesn’t pick it up, and he doesn’t leave the room, but Eustace finds he needs to sit down. His knees very well  _ might _ buckle. So he sits on the side of his bed and, upon realizing what a display that makes of how hard he is, he hugs a pillow in his lap. 

For a moment Eustace considers what it would be like if he were to refuse. Eustace loves Vaseraga and he thinks it’s plain as day, but he knows that he’s being too subtle. He hopes that Vaseraga feels the same way, but even if everyone in this crew thinks so they’re not  _ him.  _ He could be content with the way things are. 

It’s still nice to think about. He’s bulkier than Eustace, bigger in a way that would be  _ so nice  _ to be wrapped up in. His arms, his legs, and normally when he daydreams about a future with him he thinks about being curled up in bed together, about having his head tucked under Vaseraga’s chin. Thanks to this damned potion his focus stutters and he’s thinking more about how easy it might be for him to pin him down and have his way. 

It’s  _ absurd.  _ This is not how his brain normally behaves and it’s making him angry that he can’t seem to stop it. He watches with a hazy mind while Vaseraga picks up the bag and shoulders it. Then he starts to walk towards the door, and Eustace can’t even help it when he sputters “W-Wait.” 

Vaseraga stops. Eustace looks at the pillow in his lap. What is he supposed to say? His cheeks turn even darker and he chews on the inside of his cheek. How embarrassing. He can’t even figure out what he’s supposed to say.

“Eustace,” Vaseraga says in a softer voice. “I’ll stay, if you need help.” 

His eyes snap up to look at Vaseraga. Is that a serious offer? It must be, and he must know what it might entail, but he still finds he’s not sure what to say. So he nods his head, and he sighs in relief when Vaseraga drops the bag near the door and locks it again. He’s going to stay. Then he steps out of his shoes and walks closer. 

Every step he takes is a crushing, thrilling beat of Eustace’s heart, until he sits down on the bed beside Eustace, far too close for just friends, and he asks him plain and simple, “What do you need?” 

Rational. Calm. Eustace forgets the words he lives by in a moment in favor of throwing his arms around those thick, strong shoulders. Without a word he crushes their lips together, and he’s so, so pleased when the reaction Vaseraga has is to part his lips and kiss him back. Heat was already pooling in his groin, but when Eustace is met with hot, thick tongue pushing into his mouth he just  _ moans.  _ A wave of arousal, heat, and a dash of  _ about time _ floods over him thick like honey. He can’t seem to think of anything else but reaching up with one hand and curling his fingers in a vice around one of his horns--just to make sure he doesn’t get away. 

That kiss alone could go on forever. It would be all Eustace needed to see him through to the end. Vaseraga’s chapped lips slotted perfectly against his own. The very last whisper of his dignity falls silent, and when he finally, finally speaks up, he doesn’t even pull away. Instead he mumbles his thought against Vaseraga’s lips. “Please stay.” 

Vaseraga shifts but, thank goodness, he doesn’t leave. He wraps one arm securely around Eustace’s back and eagerly pulls him in for another desperate kiss. Eustace melts. He molds his body to fit against Vaseraga’s until the pillow he was holding before is long forgotten. His plans are ruined, but not just his plans to read a book and waste the day away.

This isn’t how he would ever dream of treating Vaseraga. Eustace only knows so much about his life, but he knows he’s lost and lost and lost. Eustace dreamed of offering him a safe love, something he could count on and something he couldn’t lose. What he’s displaying now is messy, impulsive, and risky. But he hopes maybe this can all be salvaged later. 

That’s, as it happens, a problem for Future-Eustace. Eustace of the here and now is more interested in the way Vaseraga pushes him. Not away, but he pushes him  _ back.  _ He pushes him into the pillows until he’s smothering Eustace with his own weight, and it’s almost too much. It’s harder to breathe, but the gentle caress of his fingers through Eustace’s hair whisks away any concern. If there were ever a person to trust with all of this, with all of him, it’s, “Vas…” Eustace moans again at the way Vaseraga plays with his ears. Normally he’s a little selective with who can touch them and for how long. Vaseraga doesn’t tug or hurt, though. He rubs his thumb along the base oh so sweetly. Eustace wants to purr. Instead he arches his back to roll his hips up against him. “I want more.” 

“What do you want more of?” Vaseraga asks. Eustace doesn’t think he’s ever heard his voice sound so husky and low. What’s more is it reminds him, painfully, that he’s the one who’s been dosed with aphrodisiacs. Vaseraga is in his right mind, and he’s kissing him. He’s willingly doing all of this in his right mind. If it’s because he cares about him as a friend or lover doesn’t matter, only that he cares enough. 

For a moment Eustace just looks at him. He tilts his eyes to look from the horns to the choppy, short hair, and the bandages wrapped around the upper portion of his face. He hides, but Eustace doesn’t mind. He doesn’t have to know every detail about a man to love him. He’s likely about to say as much in this hazy state of mind, but instead Vaseraga shifts to press his knee between Eustaces’s legs, sparking a desire in him that he already knew he had. His gaze turns from Vaseraga to the drawer not far from his head. 

He fumbles to open it and blindly reach for the damned bottle he threw in there earlier, but when he grasps it he brings it close to his chest and takes a slow breath. “Will you…” 

“Are you sure?” Vaseraga asks. That gentle voice again… it sends chills through Eustace. He nods his head and starts to squirm out of his pants. Shucking away the last of his clothes is the best thing he’s done all day--the cool air is nice and he notices a  _ smile _ on Vaseraga’s lips when he catches that first glimpse of his cock. That’s sure to be a good sign. And as if the temptation is too much, he reaches out and strokes it a few times--which already has Eustace bucking his hips and swallowing moans. 

The next thing he knows Vaseraga is rubbing two of his thick fingertips along his entrance. They’re slick with lube but Eustace didn’t even notice him pluck the bottle from his hands--he was just enjoying himself. He can’t help his own eagerness. He spreads his legs wider and he’s thrilled for Vaseraga to settle between them while he works. He’s even more thrilled when he reaches out and hooks just one of his legs over his shoulder. 

On the way up he kisses the inside of Eustace’s knee, and that makes his heart flutter in a different way. What a gentle, calm touch… It’s the sort of touch he wants to cling to. The sort of touch he could call home. The thought doesn’t last long in his mind, unfortunately… and he finds himself dropping his head back into the pillows quickly enough. With each thrust of his fingers in and out Eustace is on  _ fire.  _ He squirms down to meet his fingers, groans when he adds another, and he’s ready to beg. “Vas…” 

“I know,” Vaseraga says. Eustace closes his eyes and a tiny smile slips over his lips. Of course he knows. He’s always been attentive to the little details of how Eustace feels or what he needs. It would be a shock if he didn’t already know that he’s fallen in love with him. Confessing his feelings… that’s not half as risky as finding out if Vaseraga feels the same. But he must. Would someone who didn’t do this? Vaseraga peels off his shirt and drops it on the floor. He pushes his pants down to his thighs, but he doesn't even bother getting rid of them. His cock is exactly the sort of huge Eustace was hoping for, based on his bulky size. He settles to sit on his knees and Eustace nearly jumps at the chance to sit up and reach for it himself. 

He takes the lubricant from Vaseraga and tries not to blush at the amused smirk on his face. He just wants to do  _ this _ himself. He warms the lube in his hands and then he coats the length of his cock, damn near moaning himself. Instead his strokes pull a moan from  _ Vaseraga,  _ and that nearly makes Eustace drool. He doesn’t want to wait anymore. 

He doesn’t. 

He clambers forward until he can straddle Vaseraga’s legs. He hooks one of his arms back around his shoulders for support, and he’s pleased to feel Vaseraga’s palm splay out against the small of his back. To help support him. It’s sweet. It’s in passing, of course. Eustace reaches beneath himself to line up Vaseraga’s cock just right, and then he starts to sit down onto him. It’s  _ thick.  _ His breath hitches and he whines out a moan loud enough to shake the entire ship, no doubt. “Fuck,” he whispers. Still, he doesn’t want to waste a second. When his ass meets Vaseraga’s thighs is when he finally takes a moment to just exist and breathe. He’s thicker than  _ anything _ Eustace has had before, and…

Vaseraga turns his head to kiss Eustace’s temple. It’s a simple, fluid motion but it makes Eustace’s eyes widen just slightly just thinking of how affectionate it is. A breath later he mumbles so close to Eustace’s ear that it twitches, but Eustace doesn’t even know what he’s said. All he knows is that he needs to move, he wants to move. He lifts himself off of Vaseraga’s lap experimentally. All he sees is lights behind his eyes--the pleasure is blinding. 

Maybe it’s the potion, but Eustace is losing his mind. He gasps for air, pants with each breath, and when he’s becoming exhausted Vaseraga’s hands on his hips help pull him up and down like a ragdoll, keeping their rapid, wild pace. His focus drifts between the growing, knotting pressure building up to his orgasm and the rough pads of Vaseraga’s fingers against his nipples. His hands are so big against his body, he’s so  _ comfortable.  _ He’s the warmth that would break up a pleasantly cold day. 

“Please,” Eustace mutters again. He’s hard pressed to say anything  _ but  _ please at this point. His voice raises in pitch just a little until it breaks and he wails with his own release. It’s a sticky, tell-tale mess against Vaseraga’s abs, but even as twitchy and sensitive as he is now, Eustace is content to keep lifting his hips and letting Vasaraga pull him down. The way he moans, the way he grunts with his thrusts… 

“You want this,” He coos the words, almost, a gentle accusation and then a gasp when the response is three harsh, final thrusts before Vaseraga cums and his bruising grip on Eustace’s hips slackens. Eustace lays his forehead into the crook of Vaseraga’s neck. 

“I do,” Vaseraga half-whispers back. Eustace stays still. His breath is still jagged, but at least he’s a little more level headed. He feels weak, but comfortable in his lap. He’s content, but even more-so when Vaseraga goes on to say “Let me help you clean up.” 

“It’s not your responsibility,” Eustace mumbles… and then Vaseraga kisses his temple one more time. 

“Enough. You must be exhausted. Let me.” 

Eustace doesn’t think he’s too exhausted to clean up his own mess, but he’s happy. It’s been a long while since he’s had someone to take care of him, to coddle him. He finds that he wants it, more than anything. He wants to love and be loved in return, and maybe--despite all odds--this was a step in the right direction after all. 


End file.
